It Happened One Night In Paris
by kandyfan4life
Summary: Just something I couldn't get out of my mind. First Tiva/NCIS fic. ONE SHOT!


It Happened One Night In Paris

A quick, passionate encounter in Paris five weeks ago and this is where she now finds herself: aisle seven of the pharmacy just down the street from the office. This is the first time in her thirty-one years that she has been shopping for this particular item. Sure, in high school she had went with a friend to buy one but it hadn't been for her, it had been for the said friend after a passionate, drunken encounter with a secret crush. Now though she is looking for this particular item for herself.

Nervous isn't a feeling she knows well but as she picks up one that promises to be 99.9% accurate her hands shake so badly she nearly drops the box. Inhaling deeply, forcing herself to calm down, she scans the back of the box. She is rather satisfied with the simple instructions, accuracy guarantee and the promise of quick results.

Diverting her eyes to the floor she quickly walks to the cash register and places the box on the counter. The clerk does not look up from his cell phone as he pecks away at the keys, obviously more interested in a text message than the box containing the thing that ultimately has the power to change this customer's life forever or will simply be a reminder to be more careful next time. Not that she plans on a having a next time with this particular person. The cashier says a ridiculous amount considering the size and quantity of the item, but she quickly hands the clerk a twenty and taps her foot impatiently as the clerk takes longer than he should to count change and bag the item. The clerk hands her the change and the bag and before he has a chance to prattle off the generic 'have a nice day' she is out of the store and to her car.

After quickly dropping her things by her desk, she quickly headed to the women's room, locking the door behind her so no one could walk in on her. Even though she would have preferred to do this at her own apartment in her own bathroom she could not be late for work. Besides, this ensures that she will be at work on time and not have to spend another day with this possibility hanging over her head and distracting her.

Emerging from the stall she places the small stick down on the counter and absent mindedly begins washing her hands. As the water cascades over her hands, the increasing heat from the water barely registering in her mind, she cannot help but let her mind wander, and as she quietly considers what might revealed in a little less than two minutes a wave of fear washes over her. It is a type of fear she has not experienced in quite some time, probably not even a fear she experienced in Somalia. This fear does not have to deal with pain or death or the loss of a loved one, this is the fear of having a person, a tiny little person, depend solely on her to provide the care and nurturing and love that it will need to grow and live and survive in such a cruel world. This is a fear of having total responsibility for someone's life, not someone's death.

Finally, the searing pain of the cascading, burning hot water shakes her from her thoughts, her hands bright red from the hot water. She turns off the water and hits the hand drier with her elbow, allowing the air to blow over her hands, relieving the burning sensation. She glances back at the counter and once again her mind begins to wander but she immediately stops it, refusing to entertain notions that have yet been proven necessary.

She glances down at her watch, needing anything to take her mind off her thoughts, her patience wearing thin awaiting the results of this test. Her watch must be lying, saying that there is still a little over a minute left before the results. She lets out an annoyed sigh and leans against the sink. She closes her eyes and immediately her mind's eye is assaulted by memories from that night in Paris, their hands frenzied, each kiss more filled with need than the previous one, clothing being ripped away and falling to the floor as they pawed at one another, falling backwards on the bed. She continues to keep her eyes shut, mentally kicking herself for not insisting they take more precautions, or any for that matter.

Opening her eyes she glances at her watch once more, more than two minutes having passed since closing her eyes. She takes a shaky breath and moves closer to the counter, carefully picking up the test. Her breath catches in her throat as she sees the little sign on the pregnancy test. Momentarily she does not move, making sure the test says what she thinks it says. After convincing herself her eyes are not playing tricks on her, she disposes of the box and the test, hiding it under several wadded up paper towels and heads out to the bullpen.

When she enters the bullpen everyone is there but her partner. Not surprising, he usually is a little late, especially on the mornings that they have nothing but paperwork to do. She takes a seat behind her desk and turns on her computer and begins on a report about the latest case, her other two co-workers sitting quietly at their desks, both obviously busy with their own paperwork.

"Where the hell is Dinozzo?" Gibbs asks his two agents, both looking at each other before turning to him and shrugging. "Well can one of you please call him and see what is taking him so long to get here?" Gibbs seems more than a little cranky this morning and both Ziva and McGee cringe inwardly, neither needing nor wanting a day of having to suffer through their boss' unhappiness.

"I will call Tony and see what is keeping him," Ziva responds, picking up the phone and is just about to dial his cell phone number when the elevator doors open and Tony waltzes out, a bag from the nearby fast food restaurant in his hand.

"Sorry boss didn't mean to be late but I thought I'd stop off and get everyone some breakfast!" Tony smiles at the team, placing the bag down on his desk and opening it.

"Dinozzo, next time ya might want to call ahead and tell me you're gonna be late," Gibbs grumbles, taking a quick sip of his coffee.

"Sure thing Boss," Tony answers and begins passing out the biscuits, each wrapped in paper printed with the restaurant's name. When he hands Ziva her biscuit, she begins to thank him but a wave of nausea washes over her and she is immediately to her feet and to the bathroom. All three men watch as she quickly escapes the bullpen and turns to go to the ladies room. "Last time I bring her breakfast," Tony says as he hands Gibbs a biscuit.

"Dinozzo," Gibbs begins.

"Yes Boss?" Tony asks, his only answer a pointed look from Gibbs. "Right Boss!" Tony says and quickly hands McGee a biscuit then goes over to his desk, taking his seat.

"I hope Ziva doesn't have the stomach flu that has been going around. Ducky said Palmer has had it for four days so far," McGee says, unwrapping his biscuit with one hand while the other pecks away at keys. Tony scrunches up his nose and shakes his head.

"If we go out on a case today, you're sitting beside her," Tony directs this toward McGee who shakes his head, his desire to be vomited on or to catch the bug apparent in his face. Tony is about to open his mouth and say something when he notices the look Gibbs is giving both of them and they quickly begin working, neither mumbling another word.

Ziva is standing at the same sink she was standing at less than ten minutes ago. She looks into the mirror, her face shockingly pale, the nauseous feeling still has its grip on her. She splashes cold water on her face and takes deep breathes, trying to make the feeling go away. Just as she straightens up the door to the bathroom opens and in walks the happiest, friendliest person, not mention Goth, she has ever met.

"Hey Ziva, Oh My Gosh, are you sick?" Abby asks, noticing Ziva's pale complexion and immediately walks over to her. She places the back of her hand to Ziva's forehead and Ziva pulls away.

"Abby, I am fine!" Ziva responds, grabbing a paper towel and wiping her face. Abby narrows her eyes, looking pensively at Ziva.

"You don't look fine!"

"Well thank you Abby, I will be sure to remember that," Ziva replies sarcastically as she discards the paper towel.

"Ziva, you know what I mean. Are you sure you're ok?" Abby places her arms on her friend's shoulders and looks into her eyes. Ziva breaks eye contact and looks down at her shoes.

"Abby, I need to ask you for a favor, a favor that you cannot mention to anyone!" Ziva's eyes are dark with warning as she says this to Abby.

"Of course, anything," Abby says, nodding.

"I need…I need you to run a sample of my blood and see if I…if I am pregnant or not," Ziva shakes her head as she says this, hating that she has brought Abby into this. Abby stands there a moment, her mouth gaping open. "Abby, you will do this, yes?" Ziva asks, momentarily taken aback by Abby's silence.

"Of course I will Ziva; I just didn't know you were seeing someone." There is a slight trace of hurt in Abby's voice. To Abby everyone can share everything and not think twice about, sometimes Ziva wishes she could be like that.

"I am not exactly seeing someone, it was a onetime thing, a one night stand I suppose you could call it, and I….I just need to know, so please, will you do this for me and keep it quiet?" Ziva's eyes plead with Abby and Abby nods, pulling Ziva into a hug.

"C'mon down to the lab with me. I'll take your blood and we should know the results in about three hours," Abby says as she releases Ziva.

"If Gibbs sees me leaving my desk one more time today…" Ziva begins.

"The Director and he are talking with someone in MTAC; he'll probably be a couple of hours. By the time he's out of there we'll probably have your results!" Abby says as she heads for the door. Ziva smiles at Abby and follows her out the door and to the lab. Both Tony and McGee spy the two women quickly slipping off to the lab.

Five minutes later Ziva sits in the lab on a stool, a gauze pad held to her arm where Abby has just withdrew blood. She is paler now and looks almost like she is going to pass out.

"Ziva, are you ok?" Abby asks, worry etched on her face. Ziva nods, not making an attempt to open her mouth; to afraid she will be sick if she does. While Abby clicks away on the computer, setting up the proper tests she will need to run, she glances over at Ziva, a question dancing in her eyes. "If you are, do you think this guy will wanna be part of the baby's life?"

"Abby please, I do not want to think about that until I know there is something to think about," Ziva looks straight ahead, never once looking at Abby. Abby looks at Ziva though, trying to figure out her friend and the roller coaster of emotions she is probably going through.

"Have you taken a home pregnancy test yet? I mean I know they aren't as efficient as blood tests, but one might offer some peace of mind until we get the results of your blood test. I'll go buy you one if you want me to," Abby offers, not sure how to help Ziva through this. Ziva shakes her head.

"I have already taken one, this morning actually and it was negative. I would like to believe that result is correct but I am feeling very nauseous and I'm late, s…" Ziva begins to tell Abby but is quickly interrupted.

"Late for what?" Tony's voice startles both Abby and Ziva and both women quickly turn to see him entering the lab. Ziva and Abby exchange glances and Abby quickly busies herself with her work.

"Tony, what are you doing down here?" Ziva asks, folding her arms in front of her so the gauze will not be apparent.

"I saw you two sneak down here, thought I'd come see what's so interesting? Heck, anything is more interesting than the paper work," Tony smiles at Ziva but she continues to look anywhere but his eyes. "You feeling ok?" Tony asks her, placing his hand on her shoulder. She tenses slightly under his touch.

"I am feeling a bit under the clouds," Ziva replies.

"Under the weather you mean, and yeah, I could tell that. Sorry your breakfast made you sick. Probie thinks you have the stomach flu, he says Palmer has been out with it for a few days." Tony places the back of his hand to Ziva's forehead and instead of pulling away like she did with Abby she allows him to do so. "Well, you aren't running a fever at least. Now, what are you late for?" Tony asks again, hating to be left out of a conversation.

"I was just telling Abby I was late for an appointment and it is an appointment I do not like to miss, one that I have not missed before in the past," Ziva speaks quickly, her eyes once again falling upon the floor. Tony knows her too well and if he looks into her eyes will know there is more going on than what she is saying.

"Oh well can't you reschedule the appointment?" Tony asks, oblivious to what Ziva is talking about and Abby cannot help but let a slight giggle escape her lips. "What's so funny Abs?" Tony asks, perplexed slightly by Abby's giggle.

"Oh nothing, just thinking about a song I heard this morning." Abby smiles sweetly at the two and once again turns back to her computer.

"Abby, I am going to go back upstairs before Gibbs gets back. I do not think he is in the mood this morning for two of his agents to go AWOL. Call me when you know, please." Ziva's eyes once again plead with Abby and Abby nods.

"Of course!" She responds with a smile and watches as Ziva exits the lab, Tony following behind her.

The three agents sit quietly at their desks in the bull pen, computer keys clicking rapidly as they type up their reports. Gibbs is still hidden away in MTAC with the Director and Abby has yet to call Ziva. McGee has noticed when he occasionally looks up from his computer that Tony keeps glancing over at Ziva, a look of worry on his face. McGee is used to looking up and seeing one or the other of them staring at the other, their looks usually one of curiosity, amusement, or sometimes adoration, but this is actual concern on Tony's face when he looks at Ziva. McGee is slightly perplexed by this but chalks it up to a 'Tony and Ziva thing', a label he has given to a lot of the things the two do. Feeling his interest for his work quickly disappearing McGee stands from his desk and stretches.

"I'm gonna go for coffee, you two want one?" McGee asks as he grabs his coat.

"I'll take a hot chocolate!" Tony smirks at McGee and McGee nods then glances over to Ziva. Ziva does not notice, apparently has not heard him. "Yo Ziva, Probie's gonna go get coffee, want one?"

"Um no thank you McGee," Ziva responds absent mindedly as she continues to type.

"I can bring you hot chocolate if you like, maybe a soft drink. A coca-cola might settle your stomach," McGee offers, hoping his co-worker is all right.

"No thank you McGee, I do not think caffeine is a good idea right now," Ziva says, momentarily giving both men something to think about but McGee lets it pass and heads to the elevator. Tony however is not as quick to drop things. He quickly saves what he is working on, stands up and crosses the short distance between his and Ziva's desk. He stands in front of her desk until she slowly looks up at him. "Yes Tony?" She asks quietly, not in the mood for games today.

"Why no coffee today Probette?" Tony asks as he perches himself on the corner of Ziva's desk. Ziva glares at him momentarily.

"I thought we agreed in Paris you would no longer call me 'Probette'."

"If I remember we agreed to several things in Paris but I don't remembering agreeing to that one as much as you strongly suggesting I stop calling you 'Probette'!" Tony flashes Ziva one of his best smiles and for a moment she allows herself to return to the smile, to momentarily forget about what is weighing so heavily on her mind. "You never answered my question, why no coffee?" Tony asks again, his curiosity peaked at her lack of caffeine for the morning.

"As you can tell I have an upset stomach, I do not think caffeine would help with that," Ziva replies calmly, her attention once more on her screen. Tony looks at Ziva for a moment and notices that there is something in her eyes that tells something different from what she is saying. Ziva can feel his eyes on her and glances up at him, giving him a questioning glance.

"Are you sure you're ok? You and Abby were acting weird in the lab." Tony's observation makes Ziva tense slightly but she does not take her eyes off the screen, afraid that he will notice something is not quite right. "Ziva," Tony says, gently placing his hand on her shoulder, "Are you ok?"

Ziva does not move, her hands still poised over the keys as Tony rests his hand on her shoulder. She does not know what to say to him. Part of her wants to tell him what is really going on and another part of her wants him to know nothing of what is going on, there might not even be anything for him to know about. Still, there is a part of her, whether it is the vindictive side of her or a side she has yet to figure out a name for that wants to tell; if for no other reason than for him to feel some of the emotions and worry that are running through her right now. She is just about to speak when McGee walks back in, carrying two Styrofoam cups and a plastic bag with a coca-cola in it.

"Thank you McGee," Ziva says as he hands her the coca-cola. McGee offers her a slight nod then hands Tony his hot chocolate. Tony mumbles his appreciation but his eyes are immediately back on Ziva. She is now back into the report, her eyes refusing to meet his. He slowly stands from the corner of her desk and walks back to his, taking a seat and resuming his work.

McGee had barely sat down at his desk and taken a sip of his coffee when Gibbs had barked at him to get into MTAC, something about there being a technical glitch. McGee had quickly rushed into MTAC and had yet to be seen for nearly thirty minutes. Tony and Ziva sat quietly in the bullpen; once again the only noise being made was the rapid movement of the keys or the occasional click of the mouse. The silence that surrounded them was actually a nice silence, the only calming thing about Ziva's day so far. Of course when Tony looked up and saw Ziva staring off into space, a distant, worried look etched on her face, he could not help but disturb the silence, no matter how peaceful.

"Ziva," Tony said quietly, not wanting to alarm her and face bodily harm. She did not respond to this attempt, obviously much further in thought than Tony had realized. He stands from his desk and once again poses himself in front of Ziva's desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Even standing directly in her line of vision Ziva is oblivious to his presence. "Ziva, where are you?" Tony asks and gently touches her arm. She flinches and is immediately alert and glaring at Tony.

"What?" She demands, annoyed to be disrupted.

"You were like a million miles away, are you ok?" Tony asks, his concern growing by the moment. Ziva sighs and shakes her head.

"Tony, I am tired of you asking me that question. I am fine, I am just thinking about something today that is all." She does not meet his eyes as she talks, instead focusing across the bullpen at his desk.

"Sorry, but you just don't seem like yourself today, and you were sick this morning." Tony shrugs as he speaks, unable to explain his concern. Ziva looks up at Tony, once again he sees that look in her eyes, but before he can figure it out the look is gone and she is speaking.

"Tony, I appreciate your concern, honestly I do, I just do not want you to be concerned unless there is a reason to be." Ziva quickly looks back to her computer screen, unable to meet Tony's probing eyes.

It is no secret that one time Mossad Liaison could easily confuse Tony with the simplest of phrases, usually messing up idioms or other phrases. When she had gotten her phrasing and idioms correct she could still confuse him, usually talking about things in a round-about-way that by the time she was done explaining left him asking more questions than he previously had. However, this latest statement from her definitely left him with questions.

"What do you mean 'unless there is a reason to be concerned'? Are you sick, like more than just the stomach flu sick?" Tony's mind is instantly racing with worse case scenarios, thoughts of Ziva, his partner, his friend, his….whatever Ziva was, being sick, very sick and suffering.

"Tony, I am not deathly ill, I just…" Ziva pauses, partially endeared by this outpouring of concern but also very weary of telling him the truth.

"You just what? Ziva, what is really going on?" Tony's momentary concern for Ziva's health is no overshadowed by his worry for her personal well being. He has seen Ziva upset and unnerved before but this is different, this is something he has never seen before.

Ziva does not answer him immediately; instead she looks towards MTAC, the doors still closed and no sight of Gibbs or the Director. She then quickly saves her document and motions for him to follow her. He is quickly behind her, both of them walking to the elevator. As the doors close Ziva flips the switch and turns to Tony, her heart pounding, unsure if she can explain this to him. She, the onetime assassin, is now having problems forming simple, everyday words, words that many women mutter every day, women in far worse positions than she is in. Women usually with men a lot worse than Tony Dinozzo.

"Ok, I'm officially worried Ziva: the elevator?" Tony jokes, hoping to relieve some of Ziva's tension. Instead she crosses her arms and leans back against wall of the elevator, her shoes once again catching her attention. Tony notices this immediately and is once again very concerned. "Ziva, what is really going on?" This time Tony's voice is filled with concern, not a trace of humor or flippancy to be found. He gently takes Ziva by the arms, forcing her to meet his gaze. She slowly raises her eyes, her dark brown orbs staring into his green ones, and for a moment the closeness brings an urge to lean forward and kiss him, an urge so strong it takes everything in her to fight it.

"Tony, I do not know if there is even anything to be worried about," Ziva begins, unsure of how to begin explaining this.

"Ziva, tell me, you're really worried over something, so tell me, I'm sure it isn't as bad as you think it is," Tony offers her a supportive smile and for a moment she has to fight the urge to smirk. For some reason she does not see Tony handling this any better than she is.

"Tony, I….in Paris, I did not realize how the six hour time difference would affect my birth control pills, and as you aware we were intimate. I now find myself facing a possible pregnancy," Ziva babbles as she speaks, tripping over words.

Tony's face goes ashen, all color draining, reminding her of herself when she had looked in the mirror earlier that morning. He stands there for a moment, unable to think or move, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He slowly leans against the wall of the elevator and slowly slides to the floor, covering his face with his hands.

"Oh My God," He croaks. Ziva stands for a moment, glaring at Tony as she crosses her arms tightly in front of her, making sure she does not reach out and strangle him.

"Tony, I did not say I am, I said possible. There is no reason to fig out." Ziva tries to remain calm, more and more annoyed by Tony's reaction.

"Wig, you mean wig out, and honestly Ziva, possible pregnancy is a good enough reason to 'wig' out." Tony talks through his hands, his words muffled. Ziva lets out a slight groan and slides down the wall and sits beside Tony.

"You are aware that this is not something I want either, yes?" Ziva asks, pulling her legs close to her chest. Tony removes his hands from his face and looks at her then gently nod.

"So what are we going to do?" Tony asks, unsure if he wants to hear the answer to that question anymore than he wanted to hear the news in the first place. "God, this is like a scene from 'Knocked-Up'!"

"First off Tony, this is not a movie, secondly we find out if there is something we need to do anything over, then we go from there. I honestly do not believe I am pr…possibly carrying a child, but I have been nauseous the past few days and I am late, something that usually does not occur to me. That is why I am having Abby run a sample of my blood."

"Good, so we'll know for sure. I'm not sure I'd trust those $9.99 over the counter things you get at the pharmacy," Tony shakes his head at this thought.

"Well, I am hoping I can trust one of those because I took one this morning and it said negative, but as you've pointed out, they are not something I would trust completely." Ziva once again sighs, unsure of what to say next. The silence that surrounds them is unbearable and just as Ziva is about to stand up Tony groans, obviously making another realization.

"Crap, Gibbs is going to kill me!"

"Gibbs could be the least of our problems Tony," Ziva hisses, glaring at Tony with daggers for eyes. Tony looks at Ziva for a moment and even though she has just told him potentially life changing news he has an evil sparkle in his eye.

"Hey it might not be mine," He smirks but immediately realizes the humongous mistake he has made.

The loud scream of pain could be heard in the bullpen and several floors both above and below. As the elevator doors opened no one was surprised to see an angry Ziva, fuming and practically growling words in Hebrew, come stomping off the elevator, followed by a limping, obviously in pain Tony. Ziva quickly returned to her desk, slamming on the keys as she began typing, Tony still slowly limping to his desk.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Gibbs voice boomed as he walked down the steps from the Director's office. Both agents glanced at Gibbs, his incredulous stare cutting through them both.

"We were having a discussion," Ziva answers, her eyes refusing to glance over at Tony.

"And apparently you pissed her off Dinozzo," Gibbs replies as he walks by Tony and pops him in the back of the head. Tony winces, unsure of how much pain he can tolerate at the moment.

"While you were pissing her off and she was sharpening her assassin skills, the Director and I have been conferencing with the National Security Advisor. She will be arriving here at 17:00!" Gibbs gives his orders and once again disappears back into MTAC, apparently McGee is still there.

The bullpen once again takes on silence, this time the silence is uncomfortable and laced with anger. Tony is still in pain and slightly frightened what Ziva might do to him next if he speaks again, but finally he cannot help himself.

"Ziva, you know I was only joking. I just don't know how to react to something like this, ok?" Tony says as he slowly and painfully stands up from his desk, once again crossing to hers. Ziva does not speak; instead she stops typing and looks up at him, a mixture of worry and pain in her eyes.

"Tony, this is not what I had in mind either. It happened one night in Paris and it was supposed to stay at that. Now, after a night of poor judgment, we could be facing a lifetime of shared responsibilities. I do not think you are any more ready for that than I am." Ziva's tone is now calm and Tony can easily tell that he has made her feel worse about this situation when he should have offered more support.

"Ziva, I'm sorry, about what I said and about this. I should have been more supportive." Tony gently squeezes her shoulder, wanting her to know he is there for her. "I also should have worn a condom."

"That would have been helpful!" Ziva says, once again swept away by the thoughts and fears of having a child, and not just any child, but her partner's child. A child that was conceived on a night where two professionals let down their guards, broke rule #12, and threw caution to the wind.

The two are so far into their own world of misery and despair they do not see Abby as she walks through the bullpen, momentarily taking notice of Gibbs and McGee's absence. She briskly moves toward Ziva's desk, file in hand. Stopping just mere inches from Ziva's desk she clears her throat, not wanting to interrupt the obvious situation that is going on between Ziva and Tony.

"Abby, do you know?" Ziva asks, not wanting to vocalize what is so hard for her to even think about.

"Yep, here it is," Abby smiles and hands Ziva the file. Ziva quickly takes the file and scans the lab report, a smile erupting on her face as the word: NEGATIVE appears beside the word pregnancy.

"Abby, thank you so much. You really have no idea how much this means to me!" Ziva stands up and hugs Abby, truly thankful for her friend.

"You're welcome Ziva, I just gotta get back to the lab, Ducky's found something he wants me to run for him." Abby smiles and quickly heads out of the bullpen, leaving a very happy Ziva at her desk.

"So I'm assuming that you aren't pregnant?" Tony asks, trying to see the file.

"No, I am not!" Ziva cannot help but smile as she proudly shows Tony the lab report.

"Wow, that's good to know!" Tony breathes a sigh of relief and smiles.

"Yes, very good to know," Ziva agrees, tucking the report back into the file and the file into her desk. Ziva cannot contain the smile on her face as she types away at the report that now seems to be writing itself. Tony stands by her desk though for a moment, watching her. "Yes Tony?" Ziva asks, once again that day feeling his eyes on her.

"Nothing, it's just that….never mind," Tony shrugs and walks back over to his desk, taking his seat. Ziva looks at him, her curiosity peaked.

"What Tony?"

"Nothing, it's just that if you had've been, it would've been the most beautiful baby in the world." Tony smiles at Ziva, waiting her reaction.

"Yes, it would've been," Ziva smiles slightly then quickly focuses her attention back on her report.

As the two fall back into a comfortable silence, the constant key strokes and the occasional click of the mouse being the only noise heard from the two, there is a sudden comfort that falls over the two, and for a moment, if they will allow themselves to admit, a slight feeling of loss. However, as a secretary walks through the bullpen, carrying a bowl of what one would assume to be chili, Ziva's nose is immediately assaulted by the smell and her stomach flips, sending her running in the direction of the bathroom. Tony smirks slightly at the disappearing form of his partner but as the smell hits his nose his stomach does not seem to agree with whatever the woman had in the bowl and off he goes in the direction of the men's room, swearing bodily harm on Palmer for bringing this retched stomach flu into NCIS.


End file.
